


I've told you so

by Silva_13



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit RPF
Genre: Aidan whump, Bodily Fluids, Bodily Functions, Established Relationship, Fighting, M/M, Sickfic, sick Aidan, two idiots trying to be adults
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 06:26:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19901278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silva_13/pseuds/Silva_13
Summary: Aidan isn't feeling well, but doesn't have any time to rest. Dean is not amused.





	I've told you so

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Im_a_huge_fan_of_coffee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Im_a_huge_fan_of_coffee/gifts).



> This was born when my dear friend [Im_a_huge_fan_of_coffee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Im_a_huge_fan_of_coffee/pseuds/Im_a_huge_fan_of_coffee) was ill and asked for a story. It might seem cruel, to write a sickfic for someone sick, but she loves whump and so I thought it would be a good idea. Make sure, you check her qorks, they're amazing!!!  
> Now, more than half a year later, you're probably not sick anymore, but I hope you still like it. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

“I've told you so.”

Aidan rolled his eyes, getting more and more annoyed with every minute. He hated when his boyfriend used that particular line.

“But I still don't get it. Explain it again?”

Dean perked up his eyebrows exasperatedly. Of course, he had understood what Aidan had told him. What he didn’t get was the consequences, or better the lack of consequences, the brunet drew from the events.

"I already did; three times. It’s a simple bladder infection, nothing to worry about.”

He still felt slightly embarrassed, having always assumed that was some kind of ‘girls-disease’.

“Sitting on the cold beach all day and swimming in the sea in December is obviously not the best way to treat your body and stay healthy. I mean, I was really careful, putting on an extra jacket and whatnot as soon as they shouted ‘cut’, but apparently it’s been not enough."

And with a scowl, which would have scared away anyone but Dean, he smashed his fist on the table.

"Great! Just fucking great!”

The Kiwi, who was used to Aidan's little outbursts in times when the brunet couldn't meet the high standards he constantly demanded of himself, didn't bat an eye on this. He remained completely calm, knowing that the real fight was probably still to come, and nodded.

“I've told you so. And by the way, I didn't mean the illness, but your way to deal with it. Why are you showing up on set tomorrow, when it's still fucking freezing and you are again expected to swim in the ocean and walk the beach shirtless. Is that entire show only consisting of Ross being half-naked all the time?”

Aidan rolled his eyes; he knew where this discussion was about to lead to.

" _Because_ we have to reshoot every damn scene, as someone obviously messed up the costume colour!”

"Why does that involve you? There’s a double, they can cut it down later! No-one said your face and costume have to be on screen together. Not that anyone would even care. As long as you are shirtless, not a single viewer will look at the pants!"

“I am the _lead_ , Dean. You know how business works. I can't just stay at home for a few days, even when being sick. And it's not pneumonia we're talking about.”

“No, it isn't. Yet. You still ran to the loo every five minutes last night only to relieve a few drops every time. And according to the sounds you were making, it's quite painful too. Don't look at me this way, I know you're trying to hide it.”

Aidan was irritated, very irritated to put it mildly, as he didn't feel well at all and still had to explain himself. Why wouldn’t Dean leave him alone? All he wanted was to lay down for a few moments, although he couldn’t admit that to his boyfriend. He knew the conversation was steering towards an awful fight, even without Dean’s favourite line, ‘I've told you so’. They already were dangerously close. He couldn't let that happen, given the little together time they had.

“Look, I'm sorry I kept you awake. I can sleep on the couch tonight. And yes, it's burning like hell, but it's not dangerous. Just a few more days before we wrap up the season and we can finally relax.”

Dean, who knew exactly where this was leading to, as it wasn’t the first time Aidan worked sick, crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“Not when you're too sick to get out of bed. Like last year, when you were shooting season three.”

Dean perked up his eyebrows and looked Aidan right in the eye. He had played nurse for two weeks when Aidan had come to New Zealand for last year's Christmas holidays, coughing his lungs out and burning with fever, as he hadn't had enough rest on set to cure a recently caught cold and therefore had developed a severe bronchitis.

“Don’t you get it? I just _can't_ afford to be sick. That's the crux with being the lead. Come on, don't be a twat. You've been ill while working too, loads of times.”

Dean rolled his eyes, again not being able to withstand Aidan puppy eyes. And so he went into the kitchen, making tea and fetching the heating pad. At least it was only a bladder infection. Because, when Aidan at first started to feel a burning sensation while on the loo, for a tiny moment, he had feared something worse. Gonorrhoea or something like that; although his boyfriend really wasn't the type for cheating.

“Will you at least take the antibiotics the doctor prescribed?“

He felt the fury flare up in his chest again when he saw his boyfriend shaking his head.

“I really can’t deal with the side effects on set right now. Believe me, it's fucking hell riding horseback all day while having the runs.”

“Then why did you go to the doctor in the first place? You could’ve saved the time when you’re going to ignore everything he recommended. You know, you only played a dwarf once; you don't have to behave like one now. Your stubbornness won't get you anywhere but into hospital one day. I, for my part, have enough of that game. I didn't come here to watch you ruining your health once again and play nurse.”

“Now you’re really overdramatic. I promise to keep myself as warm as possible. I'll keep it down as best as I can and rest between takes. Does that satisfy you?”

“Not in the slightest. You are sick and you should stay at home. At least for a few days. Or at least until you’re finished with peeing blood.”

How did Dean know about _this_?

“Do we really have to argue during the short time we actually are in the same country?”

Aidan was furious. He hated Dean’s equanimity when they fought. It let him, Aidan, look like a revolting teenager; a child throwing a tantrum. He almost lost it when the blond only shrugged.

“As long as you choose to be an idiot, we have to.”

Dean didn’t have an actual problem with taking care of his boyfriend when he was sick. But he _had_ a problem with the outright carelessness Aidan treated himself with in favour of his job. It would do no-one any good if he fell really ill; neither the production nor his reputation and least of all himself. He shot 15 hours a day, in the ice-cold wind of the Cornish beach, in the ocean, on horseback cantering over the cliffs. There was no way to shake even such a harmless disease like a bladder-infection under those conditions. And if it was still harmless when blood was involved, he wasn’t sure. But he _was_ sure that Aidan had kept that particular fact from the doctor. He had enough, really enough. They had this discussion for years now, every time when Poldark was almost over, Aidan fell ill due to the challenging requirements the role came with. All he wanted was to spend a little time with his boyfriend, alone, healthy and happy. Was that too much to ask for? And that was why he finally snapped, after receiving another demonstration of Aidan ruining himself.

“I won't share a bed with you though. You can have the couch as it's closer to the bathroom. If you are too sick to get up anymore in a few days time, you can take care of yourself."

And with that he smashed the door to the tiny bedroom shut and Aidan was left alone.

~~~

Although it was his morning break, Aidan hadn’t eaten a thing. He had just no appetite. Besides, the food tasted like Styrofoam for days now. Instead he had given in to the constant urge to use the toilet, only to sit there, crying out in pain when he was able to release a few drops. If at all.

With trembling hands he flushed the toilet, supporting himself on the wall. It had been three days since he had come home from the doctor. Three days of misery, pain, cramps, shivering and sweating. He had grown weaker and weaker with every day, barely being able to climb the stairs to his apartment. Every little effort left him sweating and wheezing. Every trip to the toilet filled him with outright terror, for the burning pain seemed to rip him apart.

Worst of all, he and Dean had fought terribly over those last days. When not fighting, they didn’t talk to each other at all, although Dean could see Aidan was unwell. Aidan’s poor attempts in hiding his condition, of course, had been noticed by his boyfriend, especially when the latter arrived at home, frozen to the bone and with his teeth chattering. Staying warm on set had turned out to be an impossible thing, given the rainy and stormy weather. The blond had begged him multiple times to stay at home and rest, but stubborn and over-conscientious as he was, he had refused.

It was not that Aidan couldn't understand Dean’s point of view, only it was impossible to stay away from work when you had the leading role in a period drama. And now there was only one day left to shoot, why didn't the Kiwi get that? He knew how business worked, after all.

On the other hand, he could imagine how Dean felt, as history seemed to repeat itself. Last year, when shooting season three, he had come down with a terrible cold and hadn't been able to get days off, since it was only one week until the Christmas holidays. By the time he and Dean had met in Auckland for their well-deserved holidays, which they had planned for months, Aidan had been so sick he had collapsed on the bed and couldn't leave it for another two weeks. Dean had been furious, for they only had those two weeks to see each other due to working commitments. Aidan could only hope to be able to make it up to his boyfriend this time, as soon as the director called it a wrap this evening.

When he walked back to set after his break, he heard his phone beep with a familiar ringtone. He had received a text message from Dean.

~~~

Of course, he hadn't told anyone on set about his condition, but it was obvious to his colleagues and the director that something was wrong. And so they had tried to buy him as much rest as possible, assuming he was unwell regarding his pale face and the tensed posture. Right now, at late midmorning, he was lying on the couch in his trailer, berating and pitying himself. Dean had informed him that he was about to fly back to Auckland this very afternoon, and no begging, no apology could sway him. Aidan felt miserable, physically _and_ emotionally. It was not only the guilt to have driven his boyfriend away after he had come such a long way to see him. It was also the fear Dean would break up for good. He could only hope to somehow be able to make it up to him, rather sooner than later.

To top it all off, Aidan wondered if he was coming down with the flu as well, for his back had started to hurt this morning and the pain had increased with every hour, peaking in an unheard-of whole-body pain, including a terrible headache, which wanted to split his head. It was freezing cold, even inside the trailer, and Aidan was sure it was only him shivering with boosts of chills and not the weather in general. The pain in his back and lower abdomen had aggravated to the point that he wasn’t able to move at all, let alone getting up.

But he had to, now, hadn't he? There was only one last scene left, before they could wrap up the entire season and he was free to go. But that one required horse-riding and he certainly didn't feel like that at all.

_Stop pitying yourself and get it done!_

~~~

Four hours later, Aidan and Seamus, both drenched in sweat, came finally to a halt after another straining canter. Aidan was shaking, his teeth chattering, when he tried to focus on the ground before dismounting safely without losing his balance. Because, of course, he was suffering from dizzy spells by now, too. Dizziness and nausea, luckily he hadn’t gotten sick during the scene. His back was almost killing him, the searing pain coming in waves, resulting in cramps in his lower abdomen. He probably had to see a doctor soon.

“And ... that's a wrap!' the director shouted and the entire crew and his co-stars broke out into a loud cheer. Champagne was served and glasses were clinking. Luke Norris, a second glass in his hand, turned towards Aidan to give it to him.

“That was great! Ready for your free time, Aid?”

But Aidan didn't answer. He probably couldn't, as he was lying on the cold ground, unconscious, having collapsed in the process of dismounting.

~~~

Dean was fuming.

_Why the hell did you do this?_

On his way to the airport, he had gotten a call from the hospital. The friendly nurse had asked him to come, as he was a certain Mr. Turner's emergency contact. And instead of just hanging up and leaving this country, he had stopped the cab and asked the driver to bring him to the hospital instead.

Why the fuck did he always do that; giving in? He loved Aidan, sure, but the stubbornness and ignorance the Irishman seemed to constantly spoil their together time with, was really nagging at his nerves. He _knew_ what being the lead meant, and he was happy for him. But the amount of time required and the duty to be always present, be it for shooting, post-production, PR or dubbing, put their usual relaxed relationship under an unknown strain.

He knew it was only temporary, but still, there was one more season left to be shot, plus PR, plus post-production, plus dubbing. At the moment he was so fed up with the situation he didn't know if he could do this for another year. One and a half even, given that the series aired half a year after production was finished. He hated the direction his mind had wandered, but still, the thoughts were there.

He was aware that he was a little unfair here, since Aidan had planned to spend the next four months with him in New Zealand, before he had to return to London, as he was about to _finally_ return to theatre over the summer. He would also calm down while still on the plane, he assumed, regretting his decision to leave his boyfriend behind, sick even. He knew Aidan was devastated. He could tell by the sound of his quavering voice when the brunet had called after receiving his text message.

_“I'm on my way back to Auckland. Feel better soon.”_

Aidan had begged him to stay and promised to make everything up to him. His voice had been thick with tears, so desperate and fearful. But this time it was enough. It wasn't his fault to have fallen ill. But ignoring the doctor's orders, purposefully working in the cold and rain, overdoing himself completely, was enough eventually. And so he had made his decision. He just needed a little space to blow off some steam.

But far from it! Right now he was exiting the cap in a haste to get to the A&E in this blasted, overcrowded hospital. The nurse on the reception desk looked bored, but when he announced his name, she described him the way to Aidan’s treatment room.

Oh, how he would give him a piece of his mind. He had a carefully prepared speech, telling him about recklessness, his selfishness, his ignorance and how he would be so on his way home after he would be finished, leaving him behind despite whatever horrible disease he might have.

He came to the door and braced himself. He inhaled deeply, prepared for yelling, threw the door open and ... froze in shock. He had expected everything; Aidan announcing he was about to leave the hospital, Aidan being remorseful, Aidan lying on the cot, cold cloth on his forehead and an infusion running through an IV. But what he saw instead let his blood run cold and made him rushing to his boyfriend’s side with lightning speed. Aidan was not lying on his back, nor was he curled up into a ball, let alone sitting upright. Actually, he was on his hands and knees, sitting on his heels, rocking back and forth while supporting his head with his hands.

He was not groaning in pain or making annoyed comments. He was _whimpering_ , his voice high pitched, almost shrieking. Aidan, indolent, stubborn, bad-ass Aidan, who once had continued shooting a swordfight scene despite having broken his wrist by an orc shield, was now in such excruciating pain he had to rock on his hands and knees, whining and crying out of sheer agony. Everything he had prepared in his mind and planned to do once he was face to face with his boyfriend went out of the window in a second.

“Aid, what the fuck? What's wrong with you? Tell me!”

But the brunet couldn't, he didn't even react at all, only continued to whimper and rock in that childlike position. It took one more minute until the pain seemed to subside, at least partially, for his boyfriend’s whining turned into a low groan and he finally looked up.

“It comes in waves,“ he hissed through gritted teeth. “They think it’s renal colics and gave me something for the pain, but it doesn't help at all.”

His breathing hitched and he started to gasp when another bout of pain overwhelmed him, leaving him panting and sobbing. Dean felt absolutely helpless. Never had he seen his boyfriend in such a horrible condition. Something was seriously wrong and he wished there would be a doctor around. He looked around the room desperately. Next to the cot was an I.V. pole, which held three bottles, their lines connected with a special valve, leading to the IV in the crook of Aidan’s arm. The bottles weren’t dripping and, from what little knowledge Dean had about medical treatments, they probably were supposed to; unless the passage was blocked.

“Aidan, the infusions don't flow, stretch out your arm. Now wonder it doesn't help.”

It was only after the next wave of pain had subsided that Dean was able to stretch his boyfriend’s arm, which caused the infusions to trickle rapidly into Aidan's system.

“What did they say?”

Aidan didn't dare to look in Dean’s face and so he just stayed in this cowering position, looking anxiously down to the green sheet, only mumbling his answer.

“Might be a renal inflammation. They took blood samples and are going to make an ultrasound. The doctor has already seen me and will come back soon. At least he's said so.”

“Have you been waiting for long? Fuck, Aidan! I've told you so.”

Although he hated Dean for saying it loud, he knew he was right. But still, he chose to ignore the first part of Dean’s answer and headed to answer his question. He threw a short glance at the clock on the wall and shook his head no.

“They tended to me as soon as I arrived with the ambulance about an hour ago. Fuck, I feel so dizzy.”

He wanted to say more. First of all, how sorry he was to be a bother again. He wanted to apologise for not listening, for being careless, for ruining their together time and even for holding him back from his flight home, for being such a bad boyfriend and an arsehole altogether. But his words died in his throat when another wave of searing pain, in both his back and lower abdomen, seized him. He took Dean’s offered hand and squeezed. He only hoped he wouldn't have to apologise for broken bones afterwards too. Again, Dean watched desperately when he was writhing and sobbing in pain. He could only hope the medication would kick in soon.

~~~

After what seemed like an eternity, but had only been fifteen minutes, Aidan’s agony finally seemed to lessen and the pain reduced to a bearable level. He curled up on his side, his breathing hitched and raspy. He was deathly pale and sweating, heat radiating from his skin.

“Since when do you have a fever?”

Aidan exhaled slowly and closed his eyes, knowing Dean would be furious he had withheld that particular fact.

“Dunno, two days maybe?”

“Why didn't you tell me?”

Aidan opened his mouth to answer, but got interrupted by a young doctor, entering the room.

“Mr. Turner! I'm glad to see the colics have subsided. I'll have a look at your urine bag and then we will do the ultrasound examination.”

Dean remained politely silent, but Aidan could see the question written all over his face. _Urine bag???_ But before he could explain anything, the doctor had already perked up his eyebrows at the sight of the bag, hanging on the other side of the cot. The Irishman wanted to die of embarrassment, but Dean seemed more concerned than disgusted. The blond could see that Aidan was trying to make himself as small as possible, clearly being ashamed. And he wished he wouldn’t be, not after all those years.

The doctor's frown had only deepened in the meanwhile and he turned to the two men.

“That doesn't look good at all; it’s bloody and purulent. Your blood tests show not only a severe infection, but also a septic constellation, which is reflected in your vital parameters. In fact, you’re on the verge of a circulatory shock. Your renal function has also decreased immensely. Indeed, we're talking about acute kidney failure. I think it's needless to say you probably should have taken that bladder infection more seriously.”

Dean shot Aidan a shocked glance while the brunet looked down on the green sheet.

“Now, enough of that. Let's see how it looks inside.”

He put the ultrasonic gel on the transducer, and then put it gently against the left side of Aidan’s back. For a while he didn't say a thing, only pressed a few buttons of the ultrasound machine before he repeated the procedure on the right side.

“You see that? Those are your kidneys. The renal pelvis is widened immensely. The other side is even worse. You see this black line here?”

Aidan nodded weakly.

“That's your ureter. It's three times its normal size. Now that we have installed the catheter everything will be drained properly. Your kidneys will recover and probably pick up their full function again. But I need you to understand it’s been a really close call. A few more hours, or maybe one or two days, could’ve caused terminal kidney failure or a full septic shock, which both could have killed you. Still, you’re not out of the woods, yet. We have to monitor your circulatory parameters and your kidney function.

“I can’t go home?”

“Definitely not!” Dean interrupted and the doctor nodded vigorously.

“I will repeat myself only once. We’re not talking about a simple infection here. We’re talking sepsis, one of the most lethal diseases we know. The renal colics will return as soon as the medication wears off, as there is still a purulent infection going on. Furthermore, you’ll need antibiotics, _intravenously_ , plus enormous amounts of fluids and medication to keep the symptoms at bay. Like fever, pain and the aforementioned colics. You can be discharged as soon as the results of your blood tests have immensely improved; given a stable circulation. And even then it's oral antibiotics and strict bed rest for at least two more weeks for you.”

Aidan stared at him with wide eyes, realisation slowly sinking in. Dean, who knew his boyfriend only all too well, assumed the latter must feel exceptionally poor when there wasn’t an immediate resistance against the hospitalisation. And yet, he couldn’t imagine Aidan accepting his fate without even so much as a discussion. Surely that was about to come as soon as they were alone. Aidan hated to fight in public.

“I'll ensure you have a single room with a comfortable chair in it.”

And with that he was gone, throwing a last meaningful glance at Dean, whose jaw was clenched and eyebrows were furrowed.

Aidan sighed and rolled his eyes.

“I can't...”

He was immediately interrupted by Dean, who had been on edge for days and was now expecting another dismissal of medical advice. He jumped to his feet and started to rant while he paced up and down the room, gesticulating wildly with his arms.

“Stop! Stop, just shut up! I won't hear another word. You are the most selfish, stubborn and - first of all - _stupid_ person I've ever met. How can you be so thoughtless, self-centred and heedless? So egoistic and regardless of the people you are dear to? Shooting, shooting, shooting! Is fame really that important for you? More important than your life? Your family? Or me?”

The brunet winced at the outburst, for he hadn’t intended to leave the clinic, what Dean seemed to assume. He knew his boyfriend was really mad at him, but still, the intensity of his reaction surprised him. Dean must have been really furious to react that violently. He had expected something like “See? I told you so!” and the blond would’ve been right even. But this explosion was nothing he had seen coming. Maybe Dean was right after all? When he couldn’t see his boyfriend’s rightful anger anymore, then he must be selfish and stupid after all?

Although, or maybe because, he wasn’t in the condition to fight at all, he tried again. Dean was dangerously close to leaving and he just couldn’t let that happen.

“No! No, it’s not. I only wanted to say that I’m ...”

“…the lead, I know! Go ahead then. You know where the door is. But let me tell you one thing. You leave this hospital today and you'll never see me again. And I mean it.”

“I didn't say...”

“But you wanted to. The only thing you have in your mind is your production. I can even understand that in a way. You've fought hard for this, you’re the lead, it will cost them thousands of pounds if you'll miss only one day. But none of this justifies risking your life and health. We're not talking a cold here, we're talking kidney failure and sepsis.

“Dean...”

“No Aidan, don't ‘Dean’ me! I’ve had enough of this shit! Every time you bring yourself into such a situation _I'm_ the one who has to take care of you and nurse you back to health. At the cost of my own free time and work. Of course, I'm doing it because I love you, and I normally would never leave you hanging. But, and that's it, you've put yourself in that situation _on purpose;_ despite my begging to take sick leave and despite my warnings. So you knew exactly what you were signing up for.

“But...”

Aidan objecting again and again, although being gravely ill and Dean being thoroughly angry, was the final straw Dean’s wrath needed to boil over.

“You know what? You can go fuck yourself. Leave me alone. I'm so sick of you manoeuvring yourself from one catastrophe to the next. As you stated before, you’re old enough to take care of yourself. Good luck with that!”

And with that he was gone, leaving Aidan behind, shivering, sweating and squirming with pain. He tried to get up and follow him, but another wave of dizziness hit him and he had to let himself sink back on the cot. He was panting heavily, the amount of physical and emotional distress too much for him.

Before the world turned black and the noises of the hospital drowned in dark silence, he let out a shaky breath; a mere whisper of the words he had intended to say the entire time, a single tear running down his cheek.

_“But I’m so afraid of hospitals.”_

~~~

The fire was burning, burning off his skin and flesh, severing muscles, sinews and his inner organs, cooking his brain. By this rate, only his bones would remain, burrowed under a pile of ash. At least that was how he felt. He knew, or rather his fuzzy brain tried to tell him, that it was only a fever, making him feel like sizzling in hell. Two hours ago, he had woken up, freezing and shaking like never before in his life. When he had felt he wasn’t able to deal with it any longer and secretly hoped he might pass out again, he had suddenly started to heat up again. Fast and painful. He knew he had hit 40 degrees when he had seen the concerned expression on the doctor’s face. The last dose of paracetamol had had no effect so far and he knew he couldn't have another one. Let alone anything else, as his kidneys wouldn’t be able to digest it and probably shut down completely. At least according to the doctor.

He was burning out from the inside and no-one could help. And no-one was there to even try. But that was his fault alone. He had finally managed to chase Dean away; the only person who had always had his back despite all his flaws and shortcomings; besides his family, of course. They had always been understanding and supportive whatever bullshit he had pulled, but they were in Ireland and had no idea what was going on.

Now, he feared he had scared Dean away for good. Fever and pain mixed with heartbreak and sorrow and, given his physical exhaustion and his already weak nerves, he broke down eventually, crying hot salty tears in his pillow.

~~~

Somehow he must have fallen asleep again, as the room was dark when he slowly opened his eyes again. He felt a cold cloth on his forehead, which definitely hadn’t been there before and a voice he only knew all too well softly murmured, “Ssshhhh, it's alright. I've got you, Aidan.”

He tried to make sense of what he had just heard, but the fog in his head refused to clear up and when he slowly blinked his burning eyes open, his vision was blurry. He had to turn to the side to see the edge of the bed where the voice had come from. He barely managed the effort, he was just too weak and sore. Every fibre in his body ached and burned and he felt as if a truck had run him over at least twice.

After a few moments he was gradually able to focus on the person who sat on the side of his bed. Dean.

“Wha … what…?”

His voice was raspy and quiet and speaking robbed him of all the energy he had been able to muster.

But the Kiwi only hushed him, his expression soft and sympathetic. There was no trace left of the anger he had witnessed before.

“Am … am I … h-hal … hallucinating?”

The quiet chuckle coming from the blond made his heart skip a beat. Was he really there? Could a hallucination copy this honey-warm sound when Dean snickered quietly? Or the hint of dimples showing, when his mouth widened in amusement ever so slightly?

“No, you’re not. I’m real. Although I can barely believe myself for coming back.”

Aidan tried to get up, but didn’t even manage to prop up on one arm, let alone sitting upright. But he had to move, had to show Dean that he cared, that he wasn’t selfish at all and loved him. Loved him so much that the mere thought of him leaving ripped his soul apart.

“D-Dean … “

“Ssshhhhh, it's alright. I'm here now, Aid."

"H-how?" The blond took his trembling hand, squeezing it firmly, and pushing gently against his heaving chest to make him lay down again.

“Don’t move. You’re extremely sick and need as much rest as you can get.”

“I … I’ve … been throwing up earlier. Spewing all’over m’self … I …c-couldn’t hold the bas’n … and … it was so embarrassing, Dean.”

“That’s okay, Aid. You are ill and they know it. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to be of help.”

He looked ashamed, his eyes in his lap, while Aidan tried to reach out and take his hand, only to half-slap his arm clumsily when he didn’t manage to control his movements.

“’m glad you didn’t see me like this.”

He took a deep breath and braced himself. Hopefully there was not another fight coming up. He hated to fight with Aidan, especially when he was in such a desolate state. But the stubbornness and thoughtlessness, the Irishman had shown towards himself earlier had just been the last straw which broke the camel’s back.

“I'm very sorry I left. Really, I mean it. I came to my senses when I exited the hospital. Then I had a long inner debate while pacing the hospital’s park. But I finally decided to come back. I’m still angry about what happened, but you are severely ill and I couldn’t leave you alone with this.”

He exchanged the now hot cloth with another cold one and brought a cup with water to Aidan’s chapped lips.

“Here, drink this. It’s only water, but it’s cold and might help you feel better. They also left your dinner here, if you’d like?

But Aidan shook his head, the mere thought of food causing his stomach to curl. He accepted the water though, drinking in small gulps, careful to not spill anything of it. On the one hand he wanted to clear up that misunderstanding, to tell Dean what he really had wanted to say earlier, but didn’t get a chance to. On the other hand, he didn’t dare to speak, afraid he might provoke another quarrel. Thankfully, Dean seemed to feel the same, but was able to overcome his worries.

“I shouldn’t have left. I got so angry when you said you didn’t want to stay here, that it got the better of me. But please, you have to believe me! I only ever had your health and our together time in mind. I didn’t want to keep you from set for one minute. I’m not this jealous person who begrudges his boyfriend’s success. Really not. I … I am not envious or…”

“Dean!”

The blond stopped in his monologue, realising only now that he had started to babble, loading all his insecurities on Aidan’s back, despite him being so ill.

“I’m sorry!”

Aidan inhaled and closed his eyes. Speaking was hard, but he had to tell Dean what was in his mind.

“Dean! I never, not even for one second, thought you didn’t want me to go to work because you envied me! I know, you only wanted my best. And the best for us. And you’ve been right, after all! See, where I am now. I’m in fucking hospital. A place I managed to avoid for thirty years for reasons and now I have brought myself right into it. And I can’t leave because I really feel like shit and I need all this medication and monitoring and I really just fucking hate it.”

His voice had begun to quiver at the last sentences and Dean had become suspicious. He didn’t need the unshed tears in Aidan’s eyes to realise that he was in utter distress.

“Aid, what’s wrong?”

The brunet suddenly seemed so small and helpless, Dean couldn’t recall to ever have seen him like this before.

“I just ... I really fucking hate hospitals. Can’t stand them. I … I get anxious and … start to panic; can’t help it. That’s what I tried to tell you earlier in A&E.”

“You didn’t want to tell me you couldn’t stay here because of Poldark? That you’re leaving, no matter what the doctor said?”

Aidan shook his head again and Dean’s eyes went wide when he realised what a terrible mistake he had made. Jumping to conclusions and robbing people of their chance to properly make themselves clear was usually not like him at all.

“Gosh Aid, I’m so sorry. I feel like an arsehole. Fuck, I _am_ an arsehole. I took it down the wrong pipe completely. I’m so, so stupid. And you had to suffer all alone because of me.”

Aidan took Dean’s hand in his, stroking over the knuckles with his thumb.

“Hey, I only suffer because I’m too stubborn to take care of myself.”

He tried to smile but failed, feeling frail and vulnerable.

“I’m here now. And I’ll stay. I can take care of you.”

“But you shouldn’t have to. One might think, as an adult, I could do that myself.”

Now Dean couldn’t help but laugh heartily, and even Aidan smiled.

“You know, usually ‘adult’ is not a feature I would name as your strongest.”

And after a longer pause in which both of them said nothing but exchanged deep and loving glances, they both spoke up at the same time.

“I’m so relieved you came back.” - “I’m glad I made up my mind.”

They chuckled, fingers entwined and eyes locked, before Aidan inhaled sharply, his entire body immediately tensing up.

“Fuuuuuuuuck,” he groaned, turning on his side and curling into a ball.

Dean didn’t have to ask what was wrong. The expression of outright terror on Aidan’s face was enough to let him know he was suffering from another colic and so he went out of the door to find a nurse.

~~~

Two days, later Aidan was feeling a little better. He was stodged with medicines - painkillers, spasmolytics, antipyretics, antibiotics and fluids, lots of fluids – and felt as though he had run three marathons in a row, but the pain was bearable and the fever only moderate. And yet he was too weak to properly sit up and had to lie in bed, the head section raised. Dean had stayed with him in his room, sleeping in the chair next to the bed, and so far Aidan hadn’t felt any signs of anxiety or panic. He even had managed to eat half a toast for breakfast today, even so he left the rest of the food untouched.

Right now his face was turned to the side when he watched Dean putting the foldout table back into the nightstand.

“I’m so glad you’re still here.”

“Hmmm?”

“You know, I was behaving like an arse. The whole time, only seeing myself and the production. I’m so sorry.”

Dean smiled, all sunshine in the eyes and dimples.

"You're forgiven.”

Aidan’s eyes were soft, even when he didn’t smile. He felt awful, Dean could see that. But he didn’t complain or whine. It was only the small crease on his forehead, barely visible, that indicated he wasn’t feeling well at all.

“I think you're suffering enough with that nasty fever and the pain. I won't give you a lecture anymyore. I promise." Aidan smiled weakly, pushing his food away. Even eating was straining and his appetite had yet to come back. Dean, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, was what drew his attention back to his boyfriend. The latter was only too aware of the fact that he acted suspicious and reacted before Aidan could ask uncomfortable questions.

“I can't promise others won't though."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I maaaayyyy have reacted a little too drastic when calling the artillerie on the plan."

"What? What did you do?"

"You have to know that it was only my deepest wish to help and make sure, you are cared for..."

"What did you do?"

"You have to understand I had no other choice!"

"Dean?"

“And, admittedly, you deserved a little punishment!"

"Deeeaaaannn?"

Dean's face was a mask of pure sanctimoniousness while he innocently turned his gaze towards Aidan and drew in a breath.

"I may have made a short call to Ireland.”

Aidan’s eyes widened, and if he hadn’t been so pale and sick, it would have looked more than funny.

“You didn’t!”

Dean drew in a breath and straightened his back, pulling his shoulders back and rising his chin.

“Yes, I did. I called momzilla. Right after I've left, so you wouldn’t dare to leave the hospital.”

And after a few seconds of silence he shrugged and lifted his arms, his palms facing the ceiling.

“I only had the best intentions."

Aidan's face twisted with sheer appal and his mouth fell open. Despite the exertion, he tried to sit up in his bed and shook his head.

"You didn't!"

"I did. No shit."

"You di... How could you?"

"Firstly, I didn't know my bad conscience would bring me right back to you. And secondly, it's about time that someone puts some sense into you, so what happened wouldn't repeat itself all too soon."

The expression of fright and disbelieve made Dean almost feel bad at his move. Almost. On the other hand, he had to suppress a laugh. Not even Kili had looked more betrayed when Bilbo had announced the dwarves were full of parasites.

"But Dean ... no! Tell me you didn't.”

"As I said, a little punishment was due."

"You do know what that means for us, don’t you?"

"Yes, she'll be all over you, fussing and pampering, being all mother hen, giving you a lecture at every occasion she can find. And there will be many, believe me.. She’ll be putting a hot water bottle under the duvet despite you being all red and hot. She’ll be holding a tissue up to your nose, insisting you have to blow it, even if you don’t have a cold. You can be lucky if she doesn't spoon feed you the entire time. She won’t let you leave your bed for at least four weeks. And that’s exactly where you belong to."

Defeated Aidan sighed and rolled his eyes.

"She’ll probably be knitting another one of those awful sweaters. She always does that, using the worst colours. How’s that supposed to help?”

Dean snickered, thinking about the pile of ugly sweaters Aidan had at home, not daring to throw them away. Obviously, in his mom’s eyes staying warm was the cure to every disease ever known.

“Do you think she’ll make another green one?”

“Hopefully not! How much time do I have left?"

“Actually, she’s already…”

This was the very moment the door flew open and a tall, dark-haired woman in her early fifties stormed into the room, a fierce expression on her face, while she snapped at the nurse coming after her.

“What do you mean, I can’t get in there? He’s my son, and I have every right to be here.”

Seeing Dean’s wide grin, the nurse shrugged and vanished, while Eileen ‘momzilla’ Turner turned towards the bed.

"And as for you, Aidan Patrick Turner! What the fuck did you think were you doing?"

Aidan shrank back into his pillow, wishing the floor would open and swallow him alive when he heard two nurses chuckling outside. He didn’t listen to his ranting mother, as he knew her words by heart. Too often had he received that particular lecture after not taking enough care of himself. When his head hit the pillow, suddenly all strength left him and he felt completely wiped out. After all, he had been septic, shaken by severe colics and was still sick as a dog. A little break couldn’t hurt, even if it meant having to deal with his overbearing and unduly concerned mother. She only meant well, didn’t she?

He was about to make peace with his situation, being confined to bed for weeks, feeling generally awful and weak, enduring his mother’s antics and listen to Dean’s ‘I’ve told you so’s, when he saw something which made his blood run cold.

For a short second there had been a flash of orange. A bright and blazing orange, almost sickening. It was wool, coiled around two knitting needles, sticking right out of his mother’s handbag.

_Noooooooooo._

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to visit my tumblr and say hi :-D


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